


Unnatural though thou art

by gealach



Series: Tainted flesh, filthy soul [3]
Category: Dark Wolverine (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Wolverine (Comics)
Genre: Asexual Character, Gen, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Incest, Sexual Assault, discussions of parricide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 01:45:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2833598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gealach/pseuds/gealach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were many things Cannon Foot didn't understand. But this he knew: his brother would always protect him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unnatural though thou art

I.

There was something deeply wrong in this.

He was supposed to enjoy this, right? People were supposed to enjoy these things. Normal people. But he had never been normal, in no regard, so maybe this was the same, too.

He was a fucking freak. A fucking, disgusting freak no family wanted – _nobody_ wanted. Except for Laurie. The most beautiful girl in the orphanage. She hadn't been adopted yet only because she was too old already, and nobody wanted big children either. They wanted easy, drooling babies. They wanted to have a blank slate to write upon, not grown-up messes.

So Laurie was the only one his age, and Laurie was beautiful, and Laurie, who had  _never_ spoken to him, had decided to take a stroll with him, and now she was straddling him and she was making those noises and – he knew, he  _ knew _ he was supposed to enjoy this, but it was wrong and he didn't like it and he wanted Laurie to stop.

He was a freak and he wanted her to stop. He told her so; he was  _begging_ her to stop. But she wouldn't, she was running her hands down his sides, she was saying he would like this, and she was unfastening his belt and putting her hand  _inside_ his pants and he didn't want her to, he didn't  _want_ her to touch him, this was wrong and  _disgusting_ , he wasn't liking this, but she wouldn't stop, and he begged her, and he begged her, and he closed his eyes, thinking she would finish soon, and –

“I think he asked you time and again to _stop_ ,” a voice said, and she shrieked and he opened his eyes – and there was a _man_ just a few feet from them, a tall man leaning on a tree, lips curled in disgust and teeth bared. His eyes were cold, so cold, and Jack thought he was too young to be a wanna-be-parent coming to see the kids at the orphanage, and today it wasn't visitation day anyway, so how the hell had he come in, and –

“Get _off_ of him,” the stranger barked, and Laurie shrieked again and complied. Jack covered himself with his hands.

The stranger was attractive; he knew because Laurie was practically salivating, devouring him with her eyes, and she even  _panted_ when she said, “Who the fuck are you?” and there was a hitch in her breath when she said  _fuck_ . She gravitated towards him and put on her best coy smile. She put that on when parents came at the orphanage, and usually threw it at the would-be-dads, but only when their wives were elsewhere. Jack used the opportunity to put his flaccid cock back into his pants. He felt his face burning with embarassment.

The stranger raised an eyebrow. “I'm way out of your league, girl. Your breath still reeks of your mother's milk.”

Laurie's face contorted, and was red, and Jack thought that she wasn't beautiful at all – why had he always thought that she was? She was a monster. “You his sugar daddy?” she sneered, “You're  _gay_ , Jack? You suck his dick? That's why you were  _whining_ like a  _girl_ ?”

“I'm not –”

“Oh, I'll tell everyone you're a faggot. Ugly and a faggot!”

Ugly? She was cruel. She was evil. She was – she was right, wasn't she? He was a freak –

The stranger grabbed her arm. “You really don't want to annoy me more than you already  _have_ .” His voce was – low, and terrifying, and Laurie paled and tried to move away, but he held her close, and he raised the other arm and – there were  _things_ coming out of the back of his hand.  _Pointy_ things.

“You're a mutant,” Laurie hissed, wide-eyed, and she struggled. “Please don't hurt me, I like mutants, really, I _do_ , please –”

The stranger released her and she jumped away at the speed of light, and she run towards the orphanage – only to stop when she was well away and snarl at Jack, “You're a freak, Jack, and I only wanted to know if – if what they say about people with big feet is true!” And she stormed off.

“ _Charming_ ,” the stranger said, cocking an eyebrow, and looked at Jack, who was still sitting against the tree. Those things were still out, and for a fraction of a second Jack saw something predatory in the man's eyes. He felt his blood run cold, something primeval telling him to _hide_ , and pressed his back against the tree.

But then the strange things which looked like claws disappeared into the stranger's arm.

 

II.

The stranger said he was his brother.

“Sure. Strange man comes out of nowhere and tells me he's my brother. I know I look stupid, but I'm not.”

“Why would anyone lie about this, little brother? Now, if you were a rich, spoiled kid, you should beware of anyone who tells you something like this.” The stranger cocked an eyebrow, and looked around. “But you're alone, aren't you? All alone and abandoned in this _nice_ place.”

All Jack had ever known was the orphanage. They had left him here when he was just a newborn, perhaps scared by his appearance. He knew he looked monstrous. He wondered how his parents looked like; the stranger looked nothing like him. The stranger looked  _nice_ .  _Normal._

“Did our – our parents send you? Why have they never come? Why –” Jack realised he was whining, and caught himself.

“Ah, I'm afraid I'll disappoint you. I've been abandoned, much like you, you see. Had I known about you, little brother, I'd have come to get you long ago.” The stranger smelled like he was lying; he wouldn't have come. But he wasn't lying when he called him _little brother_. Jack felt a warmth in his chest. A family. He had someone. Had he come to take Jack away?

“Am I a mutant? Like you?” Jack didn't have those strange claws. “I – sometimes I smell and hear things other can't. They say I'm a freak.”

“Mh-mh.” The stranger – his _brother_ – cocked his head to the side, and narrowed his eyes, and clenched his jaw. It was obvious he wasn't _happy_ about this. Would he abandon Jack, too? Like his parents had done? Jack wanted to beg him. He didn't want to be left here again. He thought about Laurie, about what the other kids would have said, and felt on the verge of tears. Why couldn't he just be _normal?_

Then the stranger smiled, and though it appeared forced, Jack felt relief wash over him. “Humans insult what they don't understand  _all the time_ , little brother. But you are  _above_ them.”

“I am?”

“Oh, yes.”

“I don't want to go back,” Jack blurted out, “Have you come for me?”

“I had come for you all right.” His brother crossed his arms. “But I can't take you with me, little brother.”

“ _Why?_ ” Jack whined. He didn't understand: what had he done wrong? “Is it because I'm so strange? I –” he rubbed his arms, and thought that his brother had seen Laurie all over him, had seen that Jack was a freak. But his brother had also _protected_ him from her. He had chased her away.

His brother didn't answer, but came closer, and crouched beside him. “I'll come back when you're out of this place. If you want me to.” Maybe he had no documents that would prove they were brothers, since he had been abandoned himself; and he couldn't possibly adopt Jack, right? He looked so young. And Jack was almost of age, he would be out soon, this wasn't a problem, really – did his brother really want to see him again? Would Jack have a family? Maybe his brother could talk to him about their parents. Jack wanted to learn all he could about them, about the monsters that had abandoned him.

“I want you to,” he blurted out, and blushed, embarassed by his eagerness.

His brother cocked his head to the side. “All right, then.”

 

III.

Jack went back to his life, and suffered Laurie's sneering and horrible words and taunting till, just a few days later, someone showed out of the blue to adopt her – they asked specifically for her – and he never saw her again. Jack was relieved, because she was mean and a monster and she had hurt him.

His brother – his name was Daken – kept his promise. When Jack left the orphanage, Daken was waiting outside with a nice car, and as he drove them out of that godforsaken town he offered to buy him an apartment wherever he wanted. He was  _rich_ . When Jack asked him what could he do to repay him, Daken just laughed. It sent shivers down his spine, because it was a strange laughter, not happy but rich with malice, and Jack thought that maybe Daken wanted to hurt him – but then Daken smiled, and the smile seemed genuine, and said that they were  _blood_ . “I'll take care of you, little brother,” he said, and the words were heavy and laced with meaning.

Daken bought him a nice little apartment that Jack chose, and stayed for just a few days, to help him find a job, and told him about their father, who was the famous X-Man Wolverine. They hadn't the same mother. Daken told him what Wolverine had done to his  _own_ mother, and said that Jack was lucky, that at least Jack's mother was probably alive somewhere. It was a relief, Jack agreed. He had wanted to reach out, but now he didn't want to meet that horrible bastard. He would have killed him if he had had the chance, he said viciously, taking even himself by surprise, and Daken fell silent.

The next day Daken was gone, but he would come back now and then, and he would ask about Jack's life. He seemed to be making an effort to stay put and listen to Jack, and he never provided many imputs to the conversation. Jack thought that Daken was doing this out of some sense of obligation, or perhaps that he must be so very alone. Jack knew the feeling: his build and grotesque aspect lead him to being alone, so he recognised loneliness.

But sometimes, just sometimes, Daken would seem interested,  _really_ interested, and those were the best times.

 

IV.

Standing in the pool of blood, Jack held with a shaking hand the phone to his ear. He couldn't avert his eyes from what was in front of him.

When the line was picked up, he sobbed in relief.

“Little brother? What's the matter?” Daken's voice calmed him, reassured him. He would know what to do. His brother took care of him, protected him –

“I – I – I –”

“Deep breaths, little brother. Tell me.”

“I – I killed someone.” He stared down at the body. She had had it coming – he had _told_ her not to – “Should I call the police? I don't know what to do, I –”

“Don't call anyone till I'm there. It'll take just a few hours.” Daken was moving around in what sounded like a club. There was loud music, and laughter. Then there was silence. “Jack?”

“Yes.”

“I'll take care of you.”

Jack sobbed. Over the line, he heard the sounds of a car engine.

“Jack? Do you want me to stay with you?”

“Please.”

“All right. Stay with me, little brother. I'm on my way.”

Jack spent the next four hours standing in the pool of blood, listening to the music Daken was listening to, some sort of classical music – he had heard something similar at the orphanage, sometimes; the director was a fanatic. Daken didn't try to engage him in conversation and Jack was glad for that, because he didn't know what to say. But he was safe now. He knew he was.

The body began to smell; but he couldn't bring himself to move away. He stared in horrified fascination at the broken ribcage, at the face unrecognisable, and thought that he had liked this. He had liked killing her. He was a freak.

When Daken arrived, he took in the state Jack was in, the body in front of him, and didn't seem horrified or worried. His features settled in a business-like mask – not the reaction Jack would have expected at the sight of a corpse – and he placed the cell phone on the bookcase.

Then he approached them. “What happened?”

It wasn't that difficult to understand, was it? Jack hadn't even get dressed again. “She – she wanted to – but I didn't want to – and she kept  _insisting_ , and –” any normal person would have just had sex with her. Or maybe shoved her away. Not  _this_ . But he had gotten scared, and she wouldn't leave him alone, and she had taunted him – she had said horrible,  _horrible_ things, and next he knew he had punched her, and when she had fallen he had kicked her, and kicked her, and then he had felt he was standing with a foot inside something  _wet_ and  _slick_ .

Daken listened, and then said, with a voice so gentle and soft, that Jack had never heard him use: “Go take a shower. I'll make her disappear.”

“What? But –”

“Does someone know she was here? Is she a friend of yours?”

“No, she – I mean yes, I knew her, but I don't think anyone knew that – oh God, I killed her. I'm a murderer.”

“It was self-defense, Jack.”

“What?”

Jack stared down at Daken, that was crouching beside the body, claws sliding out of his hands. “Self-defense. But nobody will believe you, little brother. You do know what does this look like, don't you?”

Yes. He knew what did it look like. “I don't want to go to prison. She – she should have left me alone!”

“Yes, she should have. Go take that shower.”

He obeyed, in a haze, because he could do nothing else. Everything was fine, Daken would take care of this. His big brother would take care of this –

He stared at the blood mixing with the water, swirling down, down, down – he saw her again, saw her body bend and break, the blood spraying everywhere... she hadn't even had the time to scream – and it had been good. It had  _felt_ good. Not like that other horrible, unnatural thing.

Was he – Did this make him a murderer? He liked it. He had liked it. He wanted to do it again. Kick and hit and  _ kill _ . Daken hadn't even called him a freak for this – he hadn't recoiled or run away.

Was he like Jack?

Jack came out of the bathroom, putting a towel around his waist, and found that everything was as nothing had happened  _at all._ Sure, there were traces of blood here and there, but the body was gone. Daken was scrubbing the floor. How had he managed to take the body away without Jack's neighbors noticing?

“Uh, she –”

“Taken care of.”

“Where –”

“In my car, obviously.” Daken raised a blood-stained hand to brush a strand of hair away from his face. “You needn't worry, little brother.” He resumed scrubbing.

“Uh-huh.” Jack stood awkwardly, arms dangling in that horrible ape-like posture of his. “Are you – are you a serial killer?”

Daken looked up at him, and for a second he seemed to be considering. There was calculation in there, a cold look he got sometimes. They  _were_ the eyes of a murderer. Why had Jack never noticed?

Daken smirked. “Yes, little brother. You could say that I am.”

The news didn't shock him; he was too far gone to be shocked by it. In a way, it relieved him, because it meant he wasn't alone in this – that Daken was like him.

Daken finished scrubbing the blood off of the floor; as he stood up, he passed long fingers through his hair, and then stretched his arms. He was looking at Jack, waiting for a reaction. Did he think that Jack would run away from him? That wasn't an option.

“Will you teach me?” came out of Jack's mouth. Daken's eyebrows shot up.

“Of course, dearest. If you want me to.”

It delivered a weird sense of deja-vu, as if he were signing his own fate somehow. As he had that day, when he had met Daken.

“I want you to.”

 

V.

“I don't like her,” Jack blurted out, nuzzling Daken's hair. He adjusted his hold, felt Daken shift and place a hand on his arm.

“Who, dearest?”

“ _Lucy_ ,” Jack spat, Daken's fingertips circling soothingly on his arm, “She's _mean_. She looks at me as if I'm an idiot.”

“Does she? I'll talk to her.” As if that would accomplish anything. She was cruel, always with that crazed look in her eyes. She treated them all as if she were a princess or something. And she spoke to him with cruel words.

“Can't you kill her?”

“Jack,” Daken laughed, “She's our _sister._ ”

“Well, I don't like her.” And she had a strange hold on Daken. Daken always smelt of his own blood when he came out of her room. “And we're so many, anyway. We don't need her. Bill's nice. And Mariann. Mariann likes me. And Jorge is – well, I don't understand him, but he's nice. He doesn't treat me like a freak. Like she does. I hate her.”

“Mh-mh.” Daken adjusted his position, snuggled closer. “You're all needed for this, Jack. Do you think our father is that easy to kill?”

“Well, no, but –”

“Then she lives, Jack.”

“She's jealous of you and Bill,” Jack blurted out. He had promised himself he would have never breached this subject, because Daken was his brother and Jack loved him and – he didn't understand this, but he loved him anyway. “She says the most horrible things when you're not here –”

“And you, little brother?” Daken raised his head to look at him. “Are you jealous?”

“No.”

“Not even a little?” There was a playful lilt to Daken's voice, but his eyes were so cold. Jack shivered. No, he didn't understand these things. The _intimacy_. The slap of skin on skin, the noises, the _fluids_. It was all so disgusting.

And he had thought Daken didn't, too. “No. I know you don't love her like you love me. You don't love him like you love me. It's different.”

Daken hid his face on the crook of Jack's neck. Jack could feel the outline of a smile pressed on his skin. “That's true. Does it shock you, Jack?”

Jack shrugged. No, it didn't  _shock_ him. He was confused, yes; he didn't understand these things, and he knew that siblings weren't – weren't  _supposed_ to act that way, were they? But Mariann and Jorge had taken to disappear, too, and they smellt of each other when they came back. He was confused. “No. It doesn't.”

“Ah, but you're upset about something,” Daken murmured.

“I – I had thought you were like me. That's it.”

Daken looked up at him again. “Like you? Ah, how our hearts crave affinity.” He smiled a strange smile. “In what?”

“In – uh –” he didn't want to talk about this. This was embarassing. It was so nice to lay and stay warm and cozy and hug each other – why didn't people content themselves with this? Why was it always, _always_ a matter of getting naked and – shoving things into holes? He had thought Daken understood this, because he understood that Jack didn't _want_ to do those things, and he had understood that to Jack it was like an assault. That's how Daken had called it – _assault_. The first girl Jack had killed, and Laurie, too – they had _assaulted_ Jack.

Daken nudged Jack's neck with his nose. “You thought that I shared your – preferences.”

“It's okay if you don't,” he rushed to reassure him, because there was a coldness to Daken's voice. He seemed – disappointed?

“How nice of you.” Daken snorted. “Maybe I do, little brother. Maybe I don't see the point, like you. Maybe I find it all so supremely boring.”

“Why do you do it, then?”

“Mh-mh.” Daken tightened his fingers around Jack's arm.

“Do – do you love him? Like, _love_ love him?” Daken tensed, his muscles as stiff as a corpse's. “Not like a brother, but like a – partner?” Daken relaxed.

“William,” he breathed. He breathed a laughter, too. “Oh, just _William_.”

Jack felt like he had missed something. “It's none of my business, is it?”

“No, you have a right to ask, little brother. After all, he's your brother too.”

“Well, uh –” Daken hadn't really answered, but it was private. These were private things. “I'm glad. He's nice. I like him. And it's important. That you love him. I – if I had to suffer those _things_ done to me, I would – I would let a person do those things to me only if I loved them really, _really_ much.”

He didn't know what he had said that was so shocking, but Daken let out a strange sound, a laughter maybe, but it rang so eerily that Jack felt the hair on the back of his neck rise – and then Daken fell silent, and Jack couldn't tear another word from him.

 

VI.

They would soon face their father, and it didn't feel like a victory, nor like an accomplishment. Not when he could hear all that had been happening tonight, first with Bill, then with Lucy. Daken's face had resembled  a  _corpse's,_ and then the _-_ the  _screaming_ had kept him awake. Jack had managed to hear only a few things, and he had understood that their father had done – something. Had hurt Daken in horrible ways. Had killed someone. Someone  _important_ for Daken. The bastard!

When he heard Lucy's door being opened, when he heard the heavy foosteps coming out of her room and walking the corridor, Jack hesitated. Daken wouldn't surely want to be seen. Wouldn't want to talk.

And then he heard his voice, just outside his room. “Little brother?”

And it was so faint a voice. Jack opened his door. He knew, more or less, what to expect. He knew that Daken would be covered in blood, and probably naked, as they had seen him before, because his clothing was still in Bill's room.

He wasn't prepared to the exhilarated look on Daken's face. As if he hadn't a care in the world. “Ah! There he is. I keep calling you little, but you're a giant!” Daken snorted. “Big guy.  _Cannon Foot_ , is it? Lucy told me. I like it. It has a nice ring to it.” He shoved him playfully on an arm. “Do you know the utterly ridiculous name she's chosen? She thinks she's in some soft core porno, probably.”

“You hurt me,” Jack said.

“Mh?”

“Earlier. That thing you said. About – about me. Fucking. Before I get _lonely._ ”

“Oh.” Daken cocked his head to the side. “I'm sorry, dearest. I didn't mean to upset you. That's just how I get, I get so _mean_ sometimes. Lucy's an _amateur_ , you know?”

“But you _hurt_ me,” Jack repeated. It was important. It was important that Daken understood.

“I didn't want to. I didn't mean to. Little brother.” Daken embraced him suddenly, embraced him tightly. Usually Jack had to do it first. He stared down at Daken's head, at Daken's hair that kept him from seeing his face. He looked so tiny, head barely reaching Jack's chest, and Jack felt like an asshole. Daken was clearly suffering, their father was a monster, and Daken had just lashed out, just that –

“It's all right,” came out of his mouth. “It's all right. We'll kill him, brother. We'll murder him. I'll carve his heart out for you.”

“Oh, little brother, I'll miss you,” Daken murmured, and tightened his hold.

“Uh?”

“I'm going away for a while, dearest,” Daken spoke against Jack's chest, “I'll let you in the good company of the Red Right Hand. But I'll see you soon again, I promise. I'll see you there.”

“Oh. Okay –” Daken was a busy man, he knew that. They had been shocked when they had recognised him on TV, when they had seen him among the _Avengers_. It had been Jorge to spot the tattoo on the man that was pretending to be their father. Jorge had good eyes. “But you'll come back in time to kill him, won't you?”

“Dearest. I wouldn't miss it _for the world._ ”

 

VII.

But Daken didn't come back in time. Jack wondered what he was doing, where he was, why he was missing this. This was  _important_ . Killing the old bastard, the asshole that had abandoned them all. 

Jack wanted to get this over with. He wanted to kill him himself, to carve his heart out.

“I'm supposed to _save_ some of you for the others. But if you beg real nice – I may just kill you myself.”

The bastard was frail. Jack tossed him from a place to the other easily. The bastard was angry, furious, in a frenzy – and that worked to Jack's advantage. He would kill him himself, yes. Oh, the bastard could slice off all of Jack's fingers, if he wanted, but Jack had his  _ feet _ . He managed to hold the bastard down, and kicked him, kicked him, kicked him –

This was good. This was  _good_ . Ah! He would manage to kill him all by himself. He would get this over with in a moment. Too bad for the others. He would offer his bleeding heart to Daken –

The bastard sliced Jack's foot off. Jack screamed, losing his balance, and the bastard – the bastard grabbed Jack's other ankle and threw him on the floor and –

– he was down, he was _down_ , he needed help, where was Daken, Daken always protected him, always, _always_ protected him, was always there for him – 

Where –

 

 


End file.
